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THE AGE OF TINSEL. 






THE AGE OF TINSEL : 



A SATIRE. 



d^'fi-U-^jL^ 






" An incongruous mixture up of thought. " 

w You know,- or don't know, that great Bacon saith — 

'Fling up a straw, 'twill show the way the wind blows ;* 
And such a straw, borne on by human breath, 

Is poesy, according as the mind glows ; 
A paper kite which flies 'twixt life and death, 

A shadow which the onward soul behind throws. 
And mine's a bubble not blown up for praise, 
But just to play with, as an infant plays." 

Byron. 



NEW-YOEK; 
PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR 



SAMUEL COL MAN. 
1843. 




t 3 ft ^ 



Entered according to Act of Congress, by John Douglas, in the office 
of the Clerk of the Southern District of New-York. 



• ( 



John Douglas, Printer, 71 Gold St. 



THE AGE OF TINSEL. 



I. 

Oh ! for the genius of a lawless Byron, 
To revel wildly in disjointed verse — 

To do full justice to the scene I look on 

Now with my mind's eye : to describe it terse,,- 

To paint its colours in their mingling— t' form 
It in one bold picture of description ; fierce 

And mild in style, just as the subject borne 

On fancy's wings would grave or gaily turn. 

A 



THE AGE OF TINSEL I 



n. 



The theme of satire is not yet exhausted — 
Never will be, so long as men, and women, 

Too, in their respective fields, their boasted 

Charms and vaunted powers display ; and when 

One poet by folly's reign is hoisted 

Into satire's throne, and resigns, — again, 

Another in due time assumes the seat, 

And to his subjects their due deserts mete. 



III. 



But some may say that I am an usurper, 
And have to what I claim no valid right ; 

That I am to this throne but a pretender — 
Can show no title which will please the sight 

Of subjects, who are readers ; and to fight 
My way would be but to surrender 

All my claims to their esteem. I '11 therefore see 

What I can do by acting modestly. 



A SATIRE. 



IV. 



Were I a poet born for this high chair, 
Wherefore my title would be genius, wit, 

A knowledge deep of men, of books as rare, 
Which would me for its vacancy befit, 

I fear I'd be a tyrant, or my laws would bear 
No bending— which would lead some to forget 

My mercy in my justice ; and to others I 

Would yield the praise which envy passes by. 



I'd have no courtiers — therefore no minions 
Around my throne to seek unworthy rank ; 

No breath of mine should make them easy pinions 
To fly into the public sky, and prank 

In all the littleness of great pretensions. 
Nor would I keep my honest power blank, 

To be fill'd up by fawning middling scribes, 

Who purchase fulsome praise for nameless bribes. 



THE AGE OF TINSEL! 



VI. 



Although king of letters, my laws should be 

Republican ; a fixed equality 
Of these should rule the learned realm ; and he 

Who would expect to find immunity 
From them, would in himself example see 

The concord of impartiality, 
Which would bestow, in one harmonious strain, 
The praise or censure which deserved the same. 

vn. 

But I find me wandering from the theme 
I first set out with — my object is to pen 

A light description of a varied scene 
Of women fair and literary men ; 

All mingling in one splendid show. I mean 
To be their faithful showman ; and when 

They place themselves before us in this light, 

We '11 both their virtues and their vices cite. 



A SATIRE. 



VHL 



I see before my mind a group assembling, 
The rich in beauty and the great in name ! 

Some their homage paying — others making 
Their obeisance to respect ; the ardent strain 

Of music's voice chimes in, sweetly blending 
Its notes with milder ones ; a living vein 

Of deep hid joy is midst the circle breaking, 

And through its stream of life in beauty gushing, 

IX. 

Poets of every grade are mingled here — 

Of orators the mixture is as great ; 
Novelists, whose claims are middling fair, 

And authors who have met an early fate 
In their career of brilliancy ; others rare 

In their inventive genius, and some who sate 
In judgment upon these, are also here, 
With other men whose deeds ne'er reach'd my ear. 
a2 



THE AGE OF TINSEL ! 



X. 



But first of all, who is he in the corner, 
Who looks so placid and serene of eye ? 

Who hath an air of melancholy stupor, 

And seems to gaze on nought but vacancy ? 

It is, in truth, no one but Mr. Dreamer, 
As usual, absorbed in revery. 

But " many are poets (sure) who never pen/ 5 

And I've no doubt but he is one of them. 

XL 

And there is Mr. Ballad, who has some 

Reputation for his tame effusions, 
Alternately in prose and verse, upon 

Love and beauty, and the " starry heavens j" 
All which he writes to kill. He hath won 

Many smiles from flattered lips ; his writings, 
When I last perused — or rather saw them, had 
The modest title of G. Philelphus Ballad. 



A. SATIRE. 



XII. 



But let us, " gentle reader/' mark the coming 
Up of Mr. Albert Foreign, who has been 

Recently abroad. He is advancing 

Towards a group of attaches ; and doth seem 

To be bound up in ecstasies at having 
An opportunity to thinly screen 

His vulgar tongue beneath their foreign cloak 

Of native language which he badly spoke. 

XIII. 

Nevertheless, he always doth avail 
Himself of such occasions to relate 

Whatever he has to, in't ; and if he fail 
To speak it right — if the unhappy fate 

Of the poor language be compelled to snail 
Itself along the bungled tongue, its gait 

(As in his case) stopped by an intruding word 

Of English sound— is not th' effect absurd % 



THE AGE OF TINSEL : 



XIV. 



As in the case of Mr. Such-a-one — 

(A name somewhat more common than the 
Browns,) 
When he attempts to ask in French a question, 

He mixes up French verbs with English nouns, 
And in hunting for the meaning, often 

The Frenchman is perplexed to find its bounds ; 
Which as often makes him to reply Je vous 
Comprends, Monsieur, to what he never knew. 

XV. 

To kill a living language is a sin, 
To mangle up a dead one is as bad ; 

But some delight to show their prowess in 
This kind of slaughter. If I my way had 

With these self-same hackers, who deem they win 
A learned reputation by their sad 

Treatment to such an unprotected thing, 

I 'd make their punishment the worst of strangling. 



A SATIRE. 



XVI. 



But wherefore do I wander from ray theme, 

Into a dissertation of this kind ? 
I doubtless very impolite have been 

In leaving Mr. Foreign thus behind : 
But I have just set out, as Sterne said, in 

My travelling ; and I hope to find 
Much better manners ere I leave this strain — 
So, therefore, Mr. Foreign, come again. 

xvn. 

I left him to a foreign group advancing, 

With whom he doubtless was much entertained, 

And round the brilliant circle was surveying 
What it congenial to his taste contained. 

And then anon familiarly was calling 

O'er lords and ladies, all which he named 

As flippantly as if he never had been 

Within the presence of a vulgar plebeian. 



10 THE AGE OF TINSEL I 



XVIII. 



His conversation is all diplomatique, 

Whene'er he deigns to talk at all of home ; 

And then it is exceedingly erratic, 

And ne'er confined to what the subject's on 

Of home affairs — he 's a better critique 

In all foreign things and nations, and shone 

Tenfold more brilliantly in a conversation 

Whene'er the subject was a foreign nation. 

XIX. 

Of literature, he knows a little — 

That is, of foreign ; and whate'er of native 
He deems insipid, and to entitle 

It a moment's rank above creative 
Things of half-way excellence, is to settle 

A thing that is entirely decisive 
With English potentates in literature, 
Who rule the realm of letters as of war. 



A SATIRE. U 



XX. 



Our country, it is true, is young as yet 
In Arts and Science, and in Poetry ; 

We have not grown to such a sudden height 
Of literary splendour, as to vie 

With other nations, who are shedding light 
That hath been burning in full brilliancy 

For centuries, and yet remains to shine 

To blaze their glory throughout endless time. 

XXI. 

Our brief history does not yet present 

A list of countless names of genius splendid. 

Some there are, 'tis true, whose pens have lent 
Their country honor, which hath well repaid 

Them in some few instances : as when it sent 
To Spain's dominion, one of noble grade 

In literature, who's foremost in our mind's advance 

In graceful diction, beauty, and romance. 



12 THE AGE OF TINSEL : 



XXII. 



But there has suddenly a splendor gone* 

From out our mind's circle : our constellation 

Of few stars have been bereft of one 

Whose brilliancy was not confined to nation 

In its light. It pierced all earth — it shone 
In all the light of mind ; the first station 

In reason's world was it's ; and though fled its day, 

The light it shed will never pass away. 

XXIII. 

Through error's labyrinth its rays will lead 
The road to truth : or a beacon on the shore 

Of the mind's dark sea, to for ever shed 
A deep flood of light upon it — to pour 

It in one sure channel, that those who tread 
Its doubtful surface may be safely o'er 

Its billows borne. His spirit, gone to heaven, 

Hath to the world its pure example given. 

* Dr. Charming. 



A SATIRE. 13 



XXIV. 



In bold description of wild Indian life, 
And the forest and the mountain, and the 

Warriors of these red men— their bloody strife 
Of war and love— and of the glorious sea, 

One excels, who late hath made a knife 

One would think to cut up by the roots his tree 

Of fame, at which he has been deeply cutting 

With fearless fury without once abating. 

XXV. 

I wonder some men will so far forget 

The duty which they owe themselves and the 

Public — those who have attained deserved respect 
For talents rare or virtues — as to be 

Eternally at war with those who '11 not permit 
Them to enjoy their honours quietly : 

For envy will be envy — why, then, let 

Our minds become by its vile ends upset. 

B 



14 THE AGE OF TINSEL: 



XXVI. 



Let it wax faint with rage : to battle it 

Is but to add a fearful implement 
To its destructive means. Let it spit 

Its venom, till its dying breath hath sent 
Its last faint effort ; thus when its jealous fit 

Hath gone off of itself, — when it hath spent 
Its violence in useless fury, doubtless 
Our virtues will be deemed entirely stormless. 

XXVII. 

There are some rogues of character, who steal 
The honor of existence, like rogues of lesser crime, 

Without knowing its true value. They feel 

Its want, although they never knew it. The time 

They spent in villainy, hath been a peal 

Of trumpet-tongue damnation ; and its chime 

With others' praise, is to their jealous ears 

A source of pain which costs them endless tears. 



A SATIRE. 15 



XXVIII. 



These are the smaller pilferers of society's 
Best treasure : there are some tenfold larger, 

And like all great rogues, among varieties 
They stand the first in point of character 

To the lesser. They steal to make disparities 
In others' wealth of honesty and virtue : 

So with what of these they take in secret stealth 

From others' store, may add to their own wealth. 

XXIX. 

But enough of this : let 's have a specimen 
Of poets — I give but specimens in this 

My computation of those who pen ; 
And if in hurry or in haste I miss 

To give a passing glance at some great man, 
Who stand full high in literary bliss, 

It is not from a wish to do injustice — 

The lines I wrote above will clearly prove this. 



16 THE AGE OF TINSEL I 

XXX. 

Nor is the order in which I place my 

Opinion of others, a criterion 
Of their respective merits, even by 

My own mind's standard, by which I form 
A verdict of their cases in this my 

Literary court. I take them from 
My memory's docket, just as I them find — 
The first is tried whose case is first in mind. 

XXXL 

Chaste diction and pure thought hath found in one 
Among us, if not more, a worshipper, 

With enough of fancy and imagination 
To breathe a soul-enchanting pray'r 

To Apollo's altar. A creation 

Of brighter gems ne'er sparkled, nor the ear 

Ne'er heard sweeter music than is warbled in 

The bright flowing numbers of The Fountain. 



A SATIRE. 17 

XXXII. 

But this is not his fame, for Liberty- 
Finds a new lineage of her birthright 

In his pure symbol of her sanctity, 
And Thanatopsis pictures many bright 

And glowing images. But I will not cite 
More of his beauties ; and the rarity 

Of his little faults are not worth citing, 

I '11 therefore leave them, to his taste submitting. 

XXXHI. 

Some one has said, though I think with error, 
That Campbell's ode on Hohenlinden 

Almost repaid for the bloody slaughter 
Of that glorious fight ; but surely pen, 

As intimated, ne'er wrote a sentence faultier. 

But it may be said with truth, the ode that's written 

Upon Bozzaris' death (w T ith all his martial fame), 

Will add as much to his undying name. 
b2 



18 THE AGE OF TINSEL : 



XXXIV. 



And many other things, of equal merit, 
Have issued from the same familiar pen : 

It hath infused its light and gentle spirit 

In Fanny's Poem — " what's in a name" — when 

A thing breathing wit and beauty in it, 
Bears such an unpretending title, blen- 

Ding all these sweetly. But I have known some 

Other Fannys (out of books) as handsome. 

XXXV. 

Who sails along my mind now ? The Buccaneer. 

He ploughs the sea of verse in curbless style ; 
He flings the spray about him without the fear 

Of losing his sure rudder ; awhile 
Lofty waves in passion's sea, in grandeur 

Rise above him, and anon a smile 
Of light gleams o'er his prow, intermingling 
Its milder hues with fiercer strokes of lightning. 



A. SATIRE. 19 

XXXVI. 

A bold and vivid picture of dark life 

Is here pourtrayed — the heart it's canvas j 

Painting the pangs of conscience in its strife 
With dismal thoughts of blood, that trespass 

Themselves upon the wicked mind, that cut 's a knife 
Heated in molten fire, whose edges pass 

In fiery torture o'er the guilty heart, 

Cutting its hardened strings in flames apart. 

XXXVII. 

Notes of wild music flow in melody 

From the Voices of the Night. But I must cease 
This elaboration : it is a duty 

I find too irksome to my mind, whose peace 
May be somewhat disturbed by lengthy 

Criticisms. I will therefore release 
It from its burthen, and speak at random 
Of other authors which my eye may light on- 



20 THE AGE OF TINSEL I 



XXXVIII. 



I cannot linger long at Arnold's grave, 

Where oft I've shed some tears, nor stop to sport 
With merry children at their play — I gave 

Some hours to these before ; and the short 
Time I have to ramble o'er this field, will leave 

Me not a moment to glance at the forte 
Of many other sterling things of his — 
I mean, of course, the things of N. P. W****s. 

XXXIX. 

Nor can I wander in the sonnet Park, 

Where oft I've wiled away an hour of pleasure ; 
That is the fullest flower in that walk, 

Though there are others equally of treasure. 
I might some of them in this ramble mark, 

But, as I said before, I have not leisure ; 
I '11 therefore cull but one, and that will be 
" Enough that thou art cold, and I am free." 



A SATIRE. 21 



XL. 



Nor can I bend me but a moment o'er 

The grave of her whose death the son laments : 

I 've shed with him, in filial love, a tear, 
For which, alas I nor sigh nor tear prevents. 

A monument of nobler kind was ne'er 
Erected o'er a loved one, which cements 

Stronger in death the living love. Would that my 

Unliving notes could breathe such melody.* 

XLI. 

Nor shall the notes that issue from the lyre 
Of sweet Amelia lure me from my task. 

I cannot offer to the kindling fire 

Of her bright genius but one spark of praise. To bask 

In Sigourney's splendor I would aspire. 
But such a priceless boon I cannot ask. 

The Hemans of the country some do deem her,. 

But — I have no decision in the matter. 

* G. D. Prentice.. 



22 THE AGE OF TINSEL I 



XLIL 



Nor shall the notes of Morris — I '11 not stay 
My pen to listen to his swelling lyre ; 

I have a love for it, as well I may, 

Revere the tones which melt the heart to fire. 

I might be urged by some, 'tis true, to lay 
It aside, as unworthy to admire ; 

But what I write is but my own opinion, 

Entirely free from other folks' dominion. 

XLIII. 

Who would extend the empire of their thought 
To every other mind — who would not, if they 
could, 

Allow another man's to be considered aught 
Until their own tyrannic compact should 

Be observed — who would enslave, in short, 
All freedom of opinion, and who would 

Wield their sceptre with despotic sway, 

O'er all who dared their mandates disobey. 



A SATIRE. 23 



XLIV. 



Nor can I wander with Ahasuerus 

Throughout his last perambulation ; 
Although I have no doubt his journey is 

As pleasant in this democratic nation, 
As any he has traversed o'er. Exception 

Certainly cannot be taken to his 
Present princely leader, who has given us 
An evidence of high poetic genius. 

XLV. 

Nor can I wander forth with Howard Pinckney, 
Nor Clinton Bradshaw, in their adventures. 

I doubtless would derive from both a plenty 

Of light amusement, and would find some censures 

Upon some things ; the author has variety 
In his pages, and but rarely ventures 

Aught but what he does with great precision — 

He hath, I ween, for character a vision. 



24 THE AGE OF TINSEL 



XLVL 



But ere I leave this theme, let me recall* 
To sadden'd recollection one whose name 

Should be deep cherish'd in the breast of all 
Who feel the warmth of the all-hallowed flame 

Of genius glowing in them — the pall 

Of death too soon o'ercast him : his early fame 

As breathed in notes of mournful song, will be 

Remembered for their touching melody. 

XLVIL 

Too soon he followed her w T hose early doom 
Shed o'er his after days a funeral pall ! 

The only sound of joy that reach'd the tomb 
Of his sad feelings, where was buried all 

His happiness on earth — which dispelled its gloom, 
Broke from the swellings of his lyre, that fall 

In mingled harmony upon the ear, 

Like sounds of sadden'd music from afar. 

* The lamented Willis Gaylord Clark. 



A SATIRE. 25 

XLVIII. 



XLIX. 

Let 's for* a moment glance at Fashion's queen, 
Who now in triumph trails before my sight ; 

We 've had enough of literature, I ween, 
As much, at least, as I 'm disposed to write. 

You doubtless oft her retinue have seen 

Of handmaids, ministers, courtiers, and the like, 

All which doth bend in homage to her throne — 

The greatest despot which the world hath known. 



26 THE AGE OF TINSEL I 

L. 

Every city has its queen of fashion- — 
I '11 not say king, because that title is 

Not so expressive of its dominion ; 
Besides, a woman very often is 

Selected for the very personation 
Of tyranny ; and when her nature is 

Converted from its mild and placid state, 

'Tis said man's passions are not half so great. 

LI. 

She has her handmaids, as I said before — 
She has, also, her ministers of state ; 

She has her courtiers, and she has her more 
Than fawning sycophants; the galling weight 

Of social chains she throws in terror o'er 

Her slaves, are heavier than a serf's — his are light 

In his unconsciousness of aught but thraldom, 

But they wear chains, and yet aspire to freedom. 



A SATIRE. 27 



LII. 



She has her ministers, who enact her laws, 
Of silly customs and fantastic tricks, 

Who well assert these trappings of her cause 
In their own persons. Her courtier sticks 

The most devoutly to them — but let me pause, 
Else I may with some wrath my feelings mix 

In this description. I will rest me, then, 

Ere I release this vermin from my pen. 

LIIL 

He's generally nought professional, 
(Or if he is, 'tis only as profess'd ;) 

His calling is a little questionable, 

Or stands but very narrowly confess'd. 

He is a stickler for all that's fashionable 

In manners, customs, and conceives him blessed 

If once he can, by dint of hard exertion, 

Beplace him by the side of wealth or station. 



28 THE AGE OF TINSEL: 



LIV. 



His conversation is confined entirely 

To men and women who are of the ton : 

He never deigns to speak but very slightly 
To any but of that familiar throng ; 

And when he walks the street or ball-room nimbly. 
You '11 surely find him arm in arm along 

With some one who will meet this last description. 

— This is the tree this butterfly doth light on. 

LV. 

I do not like to speak of fashion's train — 

I mean her train of handmaids — my gallant pen 

Would be, I fear, subjected to some pain, 
Were I to speak as unreserved of them 

As I have of their partners. Besides, the pain 
I meant to give some of her mawkish men, 

Would, if transferred to their more gentle sex, 

(I'll not say weaker,) a bad feeling vex. 



A SATIRE. 29 



LVI. 



Therefore, adieu to them — and adieu to 

All of " fashion's fools" — but ere I leave this scene 

Let me attempt to mark the forte of who 
I now behold approaching me — I mean 

An orator — one somewhat famous, too ; 

Whose fame, at least, is balancing between 

That doubtful point, when some are loudly praising, 

And when some others are as loud denouncing. 

LVII. 

That same time when there is some small proof 

Of merit in us — else why this bustle 
About our character, and all, forsooth ? 

It is, indeed, a strange and foolish tussle 
That 's carried on about us, when, in truth, 

We are not worth it ! Why,' then, this jostle 
Between our friends and foes % why this fuss ? 
It must, indeed, be caused by something in us. 



30 THE AGE OF TINSEL ! 



LVIII. 



I 've heard him speak upon some light occasion, 
When debate had nigh assumed a dull 

And languid air ; and then I've heard him in oration 
When there did stillness reign throughout the full, 

Deep auditory, which his mild persuasion 

Asserted o'er it. And then I Ve known him lull 

The fiercest sea of passion into rest, 

Such was the power his eloquence possess'd. 

LIX. 

'T was the voice of reason, thro' impressive 
Words — no extravagance of rhetoric dress 

Deform'd its natural beauty, in expletive 
Tropes and figures carried to excess. 

Nor was it dull and unimaginative, 

But of that kind when thoughts that burn doth 
press 

Themselves upon the mind, and there remain 

Until the kindling lips receive the flame. 



A SATIRE. 31 



LX. 



Here must end my theme — or so much of it 
As F m disposed to write about to-night ; 

But e'er I take a final leave of if, 

Let me premise a word or so at sight : 

The age of Gold has gone — Bronze followed it, 
Which was a shade below the other's light ; 

This may be called the age of Brass, or Tinsel, 

Either of which will suit its nature well. 



THE END. 









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